Congratulations, Loser
by Failure Turtle
Summary: He won that briefcase on his own, but he needs help to win the title. CM PunkxOC one shot.


**A/N: Cara, requests are love. Especially yours :)**

**Don't worry, Kylie. I plan on giving you little CM Punk one shots in the near future. Don't kill me. Just look at that picture of Cody posing like Randy and we'll be even.**

_Cara's POV_

I can't believe he won that damn thing.

Sure, he deserves it. He's a hard worker, no matter what his haters in the back have to say.

But seriously now, you don't really put CM Punk and Jeff Hardy on the same level, now do you? I only say that because Jeff was supposed to win that thing before he got suspended.

Now that I think about it, Punk's gotta feel like shit. Yeah, it's still an honor for him to win it and all, but really just think about it. He was their _second_ choice. Someone else had to get knocked out for him to even have a chance. A bit of a backhanded compliment there…But I guess management has never really been very sweet to us.

Oh, and as for me? I'm his valet. Didn't see me at Wrestlemania, did you? Well, I was in back preparing his surprise celebration party.

Okay, so it was really just me with a big balloon that said "Congratulations" on it. He loves balloons. He's weird like that.

Now don't get the wrong idea. I'm not his girlfriend. He's my best friend. They say that behind every pretty girl is an even prettier gay best friend. Punk may be gorgeous, but he's not gay. He may act like it sometimes, but I still love him.

I'll let you in on a little secret. I was the one who convinced him to break up with Maria for good. She's bad news. A nice girl and all, but bad fucking news. Did you see her pretty much make out with Snoop Dogg? Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up catching gonorrhea of the mouth. I bet that would stall his rap career a bit.

And here he is now…

_Punk's POV_

I'm one lucky bastard.

I get to be Ric Flair's tag team partner in one of his last matches. I won Money in the Bank. What did I do to deserve this? Probably nothing, but doesn't winning this mean I did something right? This totally tops winning the ECW Championship. Nice!

Now, when will I cash this puppy in?

Not that I really have a choice. They choose for me. That's so lame. I earned this puppy. I was in an inferno with Jericho swinging around ladders like a fucking helicopter, and John Morrison pretending he was Spider-man or something. I'm lucky I made it out of there alive.

Now just imagine how much easier this shit would have been if they let her come out with me. They told me she couldn't because she had to do that Bunnymania bullshit. What is that crap? Yeah, I'm sure Cara _really_ would have liked to stand there with a bad rapper driving what "Pimp My Ride" threw up, standing next to Kelly Kelly who was actually wearing clothes for us.

All I have to say is thank god Maria and Ashley didn't win that one.

No, Cara isn't my girlfriend. She almost was once. I don't know how it happened or anything, but we ended up being great friends. That's good, everyone needs friends.

But you know what? Punks need love too, you know. Thank god she hasn't fallen for anyone yet.

So this is pretty much a dream I'm afraid to wake up from. I don't want to get a call the next morning and find out that I have to give this lovely briefcase up to Edge. I could pull an RVD and just get this thing spray painted. How about a nice Pepsi logo? I could put Pepsi bottles in here for a nice refresher after a long, hard match.

I don't think Stephanie would let me do that. Damn!

I smell bad after that match and I just want a damn shower.

Uh, why is Cara standing there with a nice, large balloon?

_Cara's POV_

"Congratulations, loser," I said, hugging him. Dude needs to shower ASAP. But he's hot, so I guess I can stand it for a little bit. Shh, don't tell him I said that.

"Now, Cara, that is a legit oxymoron. Why would you congratulate a loser? And I'm pretty sure that I won that lovely match that just concluded. Would I have this lovely briefcase if I indeed lost?"

"Shut up, you nerd. Here, take your balloon." I hate it when he goes on his little dictionary rants. I know he's not that bright, but he doesn't need to pretend to be. It's so infuriating! He knows I was being sarcastic, but he needs to turn it into a vocabulary lesson.

"Thanks, Princess," he said. "I'm going to go shower now, if you don't mind." Ah, the lovely nickname. The jerk is secretly making fun of me because I happen to like Disney Princesses. Well, at least I'm not obsessed with a soda company so much that I feel the need to tattoo their logo on my arm. I hope he knows that soda makes you get nasty teeth. I'm just saying…

"Please. Your stench is retching." He frowned at me like a little kid who was just told he couldn't have any cookies before dinner. "Hey, man, I speak the truth."

He pulled down on the balloon string and hugged the balloon as he ran away. Yes, he ran.

What a loser.

_Punk's POV_

Tonight is the night. Yes!

They didn't make me give up the briefcase to Edge. They didn't even make me give it up to someone lame like Elijah Burke or the Miz. Shocking, I know.

I got sent to RAW during the post Wrestlemania draft. I miss my ECW, but I'm on the live show now. I guess I'm doing something right.

But they have me in a feud against Santino Marella right now. He tried stealing my briefcase like he stole King's Subway sandwich. Not cool. Cara took care of him for me. She's a good valet. She ripped the case from his hands and smacked the accent right out of his mouth.

Shame. I loved to hear him talk with that accent. He's taken to calling me "See the Monkey" instead of "CM Punk." Wow, that man certainly does know how to butcher the simple things in life, but I appreciate it all the same.

Oh, tonight is Backlash. I'm not scheduled for a match, but I guarantee that I will have _major_ impact on tonight's show.

_Cara's POV_

He's going to do it. I can't believe he's going to do it.

The main even is Randy Orton vs. John Cena, as if we haven't seen that six thousand times already. But this time, it's a last man standing match.

And Cena's winning. SHOCKER!

Oh, but just you wait.

This should be especially entertaining if Cena ends up getting bloodied up. But I'm not talking about the last man standing match. You'll see.

"Ready?" I asked him as we watched John Cena stand up over Randy Orton's body with the WWE Championship belt in hands, face dripping with blood, crown booing him into oblivion.

Perfect conditions.

"Yep," he said as he clutched the briefcase even tighter.

"Don't worry about me if I try anything, okay?"

"You can take care of yourself," he whispered, his face nearly blank, just staring off into space. Wow, this is really getting to him already, and he hasn't even walked through the curtain yet.

"Dude, don't freak out on me now. What are you so afraid of?"

"They're going to hate me. I'm not ready for this. It's not my time."

I let out a huge sigh. Am I going to have to mentally prepare him myself? Guess so. I grabbed his adorable face and forced him to look at me. "Listen, they hate him. They _love_ you. They want to see him taken down again. Remember when Edge did this?" He nodded. "They cheered for him. They loved him, just like they already love you. Just do me a favor."

"What?"

"Don't do the Three Amigos again."

"You got it."

His music started. I could already hear the crowd. I had to practically push him out onto the stage.

Does he want his career to take off even more or not?

_Punk's POV_

I'm scared, but Cara's here to help me. I'm so glad she's here with me for this. I already know that I won't be able to do this without her. I just don't want her to get hurt.

"Cena, I'm cashing this baby in," I said. Cara handed me the microphone. Vince McMahon even came down to the ring to make this official.

Face versus face? I don't like this very much. But Cena might as well be a heel. The crowd seems to hate him. So far, so good.

I know what's supposed to happen. I gotta draw it out. I can't just go in right away. Seriously, no one would believe it if I just beat John Cena in like three seconds. They probably expect me to lose to him.

Now we're in a punching war. I have Cena's nasty blood on my fists and I do not like it. It's kind of disgusting. No, it's really nasty. But we have to keep going. I have to take him down.

Okay…I'm the one on the ground. I was pushed, and not by Cena.

No…

Cara pushed me out of the way and…

Shit.

I stood up and charged at him. I don't want him laying a hand on her. That jerk stepped out of the way and I ended up running my shoulder into the ring post. Let me tell you, that does _not_ feel good.

I turned around, and I heard the crowd booing.

That fuck face had her across his shoulders. He was _not_ going to F-U her. Fuck the title match. I need her to be safe.

I stood right in front of his face as he grinned at me like a mad scientist…or someone that was on a lot of crack. "Put her the fuck down," I ordered.

"Make me," he said. Oh hell no.

She started kicking, trying to get him to let go of her. I tried to pull her away, but he kicked me in the stomach…then Samoan dropped her.

Wait, that's an actual wrestling move. Something must be wrong with him. Maybe he is on that crack I mentioned before.

As if I wasn't angry enough…he fucked with my girl. If he thought he was bleeding before, just wait until I got my hands on him.

It just sucks that I can't use a weapon. I can't get disqualified.

I started kicking him until he finally fell down. I put his neck across the ring ropes and stood on his back.

That's when he pushed me into the referee.

Fuck.

It wasn't _too_ bad. He was still moving and stuff, not completely knocked out. Good, good. I want this over with. This is the way it was meant to be and it's going to happen.

Cena and I were locked up, then he just falls down, taking me with him.

That brilliant woman hit him where the sun don't shine.

I picked him up and put him across my shoulders. I wonder how he likes being in that position. I brought him down and put my knee in his face.

Take a nap, John.

I went for the pin, but the ref was knocked out. Ah! But then…he starts moving his hand down.

One…

Cara shook him awake. Damn, she recovered fast.

Two…

She dragged him over to us to count the pin.

Three.

"Your winner and the new WWE Champion, CM Punk!" I heard Lillian say.

Were they cheering? Were they booing? I have no idea what they were doing, but I didn't care. All I saw was Cara walking up to me with that over the top spinner belt.

But I'm not complaining. I think I'll customize this beast. How about a nice spinning Pepsi logo? There we go.

She handed it to me and I swung it over my shoulder. I pulled her in and kissed her.

I guess my emotions got the better of me, but she's kissing back.


End file.
